


hArD wOrDs

by yvette_cigarette



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Gay, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-27 23:20:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16711927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yvette_cigarette/pseuds/yvette_cigarette
Summary: Basically set in season 1 episode 9, when Tyrell tells Elliot that he has strangled that chick to death. Except that in this aLtErNaTe rEaLitY Tyrell doesn't tell him (or put those gloves on--sorry--). And in my version Elliot doesn't cave and spill the beans. Actually haven't watch Mr Robot in quite some time XD also ended up being a lot longer than intended...oops.





	hArD wOrDs

**Author's Note:**

> There are some pretty incredible tyrelliot fan fics on here, I tip my hat to all tyrelliot fan fic creators.Though I will say that Tyrell is often depicted as an untouchable, strictly dominant character--I don't deny that Tyrell is intense/maybe even borderline psychotic--hOwEveR; he still melts down and bleeds like any other Mr Robot character. iN cOnClUsIoN, I decided to cut him some slack/human...ize him??Enjoy my friends. (gay gay gay.) Title from Lenny Bruce/Pump Up The Volume.

S1E9.

 

Elliot jumps sporadically from the sofa, he tenses as someone creeps in. “The hell are you--” Elliot demanded, the motion of Tyrell’s finger over his lips cutting Elliot off, shushing him.

 

Tyrell slowly steps into Elliot’s apartment. He appears to be checking that they are alone, a sight of relief washes over his face when he knows that they are. Elliot is alert, naturally defensive in Tyrell’s company because his presence feels dangerous.

 

Tyrell speaks to him in an ailing, blade like tone…he had told Elliot that he knew everything—all of it.

 

“You’re the one constant in a sea of variables.” He had said, his words like knifes to Elliot’s throat.

 

Tyrell backs away and clicks the apartment door lock; the sound sends shivers down Elliot’s spine.

 

Alone in this room with Tyrell.

 

All Elliot’s subconscious can offer him now is; ‘fuck. He’s going to kill me.’ These words tumbling around his head like that of a washing machine.

 

“Elliot…” says Tyrell as he slides his suit jacket off, the monstrous hues of burnt green in Elliot’s home seem to reflected off of him, his polar skin susceptible to any hint of lighting.

 

Elliot’s fingers, by his side are aquiver with fear. He trembles but is determined to remain firm, impenetrable.

 

Tyrell sits down across from Elliot, on the arm of another couch.

 

“Now, I don’t know what the grand plan is but I need to know and you’re going to tell me.”

 

Elliot says nothing, and he will remain this way.

 

“Don’t be difficult, Elliot.” Tyrell says coldly, some sick thirst rises inside Elliot. An always poorly timed hunger that Elliot knows he’s been repressing since the day he met Tyrell Wellick.

 

Elliot peers down, panic in his body. Fuck.

 

“Elliot.” Tyrell says firmly, snapping him back.

 

Elliot begins stepping closer towards the man, Tyrell now stands defensively, he suspects Elliot a threat in this moment. Now that Tyrell has stood, he is closer than an arms length from Elliot. Neither of them say a thing, perhaps a moment passes of silence.

 

“Elliot…” Tyrell says again, but now Elliot realizes his hand on Tyrell’s arm. Did he put it there? Hm, must have moved there of its own accord. But Elliot knows that this is his doing, he knows how long he’s wanted this contact, any contact at all, its horrid, but Tyrell hasn’t pulled away, or spat in his eye…

 

Elliot leans his head forward so that his forehead rests on the other man’s chest. He doesn’t completely understand his own motives, he can’t seem to trust himself with Tyrell. It’s like he wants to be something else, what ever it is that Tyrell wants him to be.

 

Tyrell lets out an exhale, not one of frustration or discomfort. A sound Elliot didn’t think Tyrell capable of possessing. Elliot feels the man’s heart beat become more progressive, could he be, perhaps nervous? Aroused?

 

Elliot soon feels his scalp being felt, Tyrell’s fingers thread through Elliot’s hair, his body soon engulfed in a raw sensation not for this world. Elliot feels some kind of liberation inside the man, like perhaps Tyrell had wanted to touch Elliot like this before?

 

Elliot lifts his face to Tyrell at last, their eyes lock and it burns. Tyrell breaks it, reaching up to Elliot’s hair once again. He gently twirls a small section, a heavenly occurrence.

 

“This isn’t a good idea, Elliot.” He says as he plays with that same strand, Elliot exhales and as he does, plants his head back to the man’s torso, he feels Tyrell scoff cruelly. “Why?” Elliot murmurs, almost hushed.

 

“There are things that just shouldn’t be done, Elliot.” He said, although this was a dismissive statement, it was just as enticing as a returned affection. He had a way of making something like ‘drop dead Elliot’ sound like ‘fuck me Elliot.’

 

Elliot wanted to inhale all of Tyrell. In through his nose and out his mouth, become absorbed.

 

But despite his wants, Elliot must accept Tyrell’s decision, the decline stings but he understands.

 

Tyrell is a married man Elliot reminds himself.

 

Elliot decides to back off, his head leaves the man’s firm chest, each pore crying and mourning the loss of contact. He takes a step back to retrieve shamefully—but just as he does—Tyrell grabs Elliot with great fanaticism, both of his hands wrapping around Elliot.

 

Now Tyrell holds Elliot to him firmly, the way one holds an old friend.

 

Now Elliot is confused, but also completely clear.

 

He feels blood rushing through him, his body pulsating and begging for something…

 

Tyrell releases him, and places his hands onto Elliot’s shoulders.

 

Elliot, still returning from that mind and body fuck, doesn’t even have time to look up when Tyrell begins planting a kiss on the side of his neck. Elliot almost gasps at this sensation, the sound sending shivers up Tyrell’s spine.

 

The soft kiss soon turns to an animalistic motion, Tyrell moves across Elliot’s neck, sucking and licking every inch of skin in the area. His grip on Elliot tightens and moves down to his arms, he forces his mouth onto the other mans and Elliot takes it with great pleasure. Tyrell slides his tongue into Elliot, his mouth luscious and hot.

 

Elliot takes in all of it, he stands motionlessly, his hands by his side, still being constricted by the other man. Elliot accepts all of Tyrell, letting him in, sharing in the thirsty feast.

 

Tyrell unhands him—as if to check Elliot’s well being, now that Elliot’s arms are free he doubtlessly reaches up for the mans head and re-enters his mouth. Both simultaneously groaning in operatic moans, tongues gloriously clashing, sending waves of pleasure through them both.

 

Tyrell grabs Elliot once again, reaching under his arms, forcing his mouth to Elliot’s neck. The couch that Tyrell sat on moments ago catches them when they fumble backwards, Tyrell onto the couch and Elliot onto Tyrell. They fall back and Tyrell, catching Elliot is the sexiest thing he’s ever felt.

 

Elliot on Tyrell, his fingers gripping the man’s hair in a way he is sure he’ll appreciate. Sucking and licking all of Tyrell’s mouth and neck, an all you can eat buffet featuring Tyrell’s skin. He suddenly feels a hand stroking him, he’s been hard since Tyrell first mouth fucked him.

 

Tyrell generously rubs Elliot, he hears him breath in sharply as he does—making him come back for more.

 

Tyrell sits up, taking Elliot in, wrapping his arms around as he licks at every bit of him. Elliot brushes and rubs the other man’s thighs, each stroke earns him another moan to his collection. Tyrell pauses, he’s biting his lip and breathing heavily.

 

“Take your shirt off, Elliot.” Elliot looks at him, also panting.

 

“Take your shirt off, Tyrell.” He replies cunningly, Tyrell scoffs and Elliot feels himself dripping now, he wonders if Tyrell is as wet as he is.

 

Tyrell begrudgingly obeys Elliot, he peels his white long sleeved shirt off and Elliot--still sitting on a lounged out Tyrell--watches in delight as the man reveals his smooth, creamy body. Elliot shudders and Tyrell doesn’t flinch, he flicks his eyebrows at Elliot, as if to remind him of his own demand.

 

Elliot obliges graciously, he pulls his hoodie over his head simply and removes his black shirt. His skin is gorgeous, and much like an illustration, each scar or bruise contributing to the masterpiece. Tyrell pulls Elliot to him the second he reveals his body, like an unstoppable thirst. Breathing him in, the way one does with any alluring scent.

 

Now the two men sit tonguing on Elliot’s sofa, both of their top halves exposed.

 

Elliot offers his soft wet tongue to the man, a gift Tyrell immediately takes advantage off.

 

Tyrell feels Elliot’s warm olive skin, Elliot kisses and worships the man’s smooth flesh.

 

“I am not doing this on a sofa.” Tyrell says under his breath as Elliot leans in and kisses his neck.

 

Elliot makes a disregarding grunt, he soon feels a set of teeth digging into his shoulder, he hisses and stares at Tyrell.

 

“I don’t care to repeat myself.” Says the man, the marks of his mouth pressed into Elliot’s skin.

 

“Okay.” Replies Elliot coolly, planting a kiss onto Tyrell’s jaw.

 

“Bed—then.“ He kisses Tyrell again, as if he’s waiting for Tyrell to show Elliot to his own bed.

 

They somehow manage to make it to where Elliot sleeps, hands all over each other. Feeling and exploring every texture and crevice of one another.

 

Elliot drops to the bed, Tyrell above him. He places a hand onto Elliot’s chest and quite forcefully, pushes Elliot back onto the bed.

 

Tyrell moves down, onto his knees so that he is now between Elliot’s legs. He places two hands flat onto Elliot’s thighs, hearing the other man breathing with great anticipation.

 

Elliot’s shoes, socks, jeans and finally his boxers come sliding off.

 

How beautiful he is, an unspoken weight is present now that Elliot is completely exposed.

 

An unfailing shift in both of them, an electrical charge flushes their bodies.

 

‘I’m on fire.’ A thought that spun inside of Elliot, he never thought desire to be such an unpredictable thing.

 

Tyrell moves in closer, he knows that any sound or motion Elliot makes will be the result of Tyrell’s actions. This made what Tyrell did next matter so much more.

 

A feeling came over Tyrell. This need to please Elliot, how could he describe a feeling he didn’t know existed? How can he go on living with so many feelings left un-described?

 

Elliot in and exhales like a maniac when Tyrell begins, he controls himself, putting a hand over his mouth. His body arching up in pleasure.

 

Tyrell alternates between the tip of his tongue and the edges of his mouth, licking and then simply holding Elliot in his mouth. Tyrell is convinced that he will never want anybody else, he knows this can’t be true, but if feels correct.

 

Tyrell and Elliot’s cock seize contact for a moment, is this over? Had Tyrell snapped out of this trance and now repulsed by Elliot’s current state?

 

“Fuck.” Elliot spits as Tyrell takes in all of him, deeper, his cock occupying every inch of Tyrell’s throat.

 

Tyrell slides Elliot out of his mouth so fucking slowly, and then slowly back in.

 

In and out for what felt like forever, Tyrell’s arms stretched out in front, resting over Elliot’s hips and onto his stomach.

 

Elliot, still covering his mouth with one hand, reaches down with another and grabs at Tyrell’s.

 

Tyrell takes Elliot’s hand and holds it, their fingers threading in through each other, gripping the skin firmly, supporting each other.

 

One last taste, and Tyrell releases Elliot.

 

Tyrell stands, Elliot hears something un-zip. The man’s trousers fall to the floor and Elliot hears the springs in the mattress shudder when Tyrell begins climbing up to him.

 

A thought fills Elliot head, he’d only even been with women. And a woman can control herself, a woman knows what is practical and what is not. Men, thought Elliot; are different. They are animals, chaotic beasts with little concept of passing oneself once aroused. Tyrell and Elliot could quite possible destroy each other, rip each other to shreds in glorious, erotic dynasty. With nothing holding them back.

 

Elliot violently shoves Tyrell onto his back, he hovers above him, helping himself to Tyrell’s mouth. Tyrell keenly leans up to support Elliot, enjoying this every bit as much as him…maybe even more.

 

Tyrell now grabs at Elliot’s ass, digging his nails ferociously into the skin. Elliot thanks him for this through a generous stroke at Tyrell, he hears a sharp inhale at this; the sound fueling him.

 

Elliot pulls away from Tyrell and now simply sits on him, allowing room between them so that he can do what he now feels he must.

 

Elliot, finger by finger, grips Tyrell.

 

His cock throbbing in Elliot’s hand, the skin around this spot pale and soft. ‘This part of him is mine now.’ Elliot thought, the same way Tyrell had made the same part of Elliot his.

 

Tyrell’s chest rising and falling as he bites his bottom lip, Elliot begins pumping pleasure into Tyrell. The feeling becomes too much too quickly, Tyrell places a hand onto Elliot’s shoulder in front, and squeezes it as the other hand clutches the sheets.

 

Tyrell’s eyebrows crease as his teeth pull back the pink skin on his bottom lip, his cheeks flushed.

 

A sonorous, deep moan escapes Tyrell’s lips—Elliot’s hands rendering the man powerless. Not Elliot’s boss, not a colleague, but simply something for him to fuck.

 

Elliot suddenly sits up on his knees above the other man.

 

He pauses, his mind somewhere else.

 

“Elliot.” Tyrell demands.

 

“I-I don’t have any lube.” He realizes, Tyrell rolls his eyes as a scoff escapes him.

 

Tyrell spits into his palm, the substantial amount of saliva he produced is lathered over his dick that waits below Elliot.

 

Elliot takes Tyrell’s cock in one hand, propping him upward, and slowly begins sitting back down…

 

Tyrell feels himself sliding into Elliot, Elliot begins movement at an agonizing pace.

 

Tyrell is magnificent, his bangs fall over his eyes as he joins in moving up and down with Elliot. His aquatic eyes piercing Elliot’s, and Elliot looking right back with no indifference, no distrust as he feels Tyrell inside him.

 

Elliot can’t control his sounds anymore—his panting becomes vocal and he lets out a couple groans. Elliot above Tyrell, bopping up and down.

 

Tyrell, without warning springs up, Elliot is taken aback. Tyrell pushes Elliot to his stomach; Elliot lifts his hips, his face pressed to the bed. Completely exposed, Elliot had never surrendered so much of himself so eagerly.

 

Elliot hears Tyrell spitting into his palm once again, Elliot turns his head and looks up playfully.

 

“I’m not invincible.” He says, probably the least serious thing he’s ever said to the man. Elliot re-positions his head.

 

Tyrell slides in as slowly and as cruelly as possible.

 

Elliot feels so full, so owned. Personal property of Tyrell Wellick, he feels the mans hips against his ass. In, so deep, and out with that ineffable pulling sensation. Each thrust filling Elliot’s hole more and more.

 

“Fuck—Elliot— Tyrell hisses as the holds Elliot’s hips for support, heaven on fucking earth.

 

Elliot’s cock pressed between his stomach and the bed, he’s on the verge of climax, Elliot’s going to cum hands free. Not that that surprises him, Tyrell could make Elliot cum in his pants simply with a look.

 

“I—I’m going to—cum—fuck—Elliot” These words jumping out all over the places as Tyrell thrusts deeper and harder into Elliot’s ass.

 

Elliot’s cock explodes; releasing the hot cum underneath him the second Tyrell fills him with his own hot, internal cream.

 

When Tyrell slides out of him, Elliot feels the thick liquid dripping out of him and down onto his balls, his balls quiver as they push more and more cum out of Elliot.

 

Exhausted, they both drop to the bed. Like animals after a feast, each feeling that they could sleep for days.

 

FIN.


End file.
